A Quiet Business
by Greekgeekable
Summary: A soul for a soul, said Clint echoing the conditions made on Vormir. A soul for a soul, Steve's thought as he made his trip through the Quantum Portal to return the stones. A wistful need to dare hope she could just appear at his side again. While he went left: to get a life — with Peggy and 1945. Natasha went right : she got her life too — well, restarted the old one.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**December 2001,**

**Brooklyn, New York**

**Natasha**

Natasha brought the frothy composition of her peanut butter latte to her lips before the tell - tell ring of her cellphone vibrated, demanding her attention. With a simple sigh, she carefully placed her mug back on the saucer, and brought the phone to her ear. The cafe was relatively packed, a collection of bobble hats, scarves and rested gloves on the table filled the room.

'Hey Mom, I could be wrong, but I feel like you're about to embark on the cumbersome argument that I need to come home instead of staying out late again.'

She heard the sigh on the other side of the phone, deeper and gruffer.  
'Jean's not on the phone right now, because she feels she has had as much of a response from you when she uses her telepathy, Red.'

A smile quirked the corner of her lip at the sound of 'Howllett, please tell me you didn't snatch the phone up from her, after her third round of pacing the room?'

Natasha took the time to sip some of her latte, she tucked herself in the corner of the coffee shop, the perfect view of the white speckled road. She watched several snowflakes make their majestic decent to the ground— and was absently reminded of Samuel Taylor Coleridge's Frost at Midnight.

'It was either me or Summers, look Red, I'll cut to the chase, none of that how are you holding up bull-' Natasha was sure Mom or Professor had pinned him with a gimlet stare, '– basically, Christmas is coming up, Anne- Marie and Bobby are wanting to know when their best friend is coming back?'

Natasha had made some brilliant head way concerning her latte, eyes locked on the creamy expanse of what was left of her beverage.

'Tell those two losers to hold it, I haven't just packed my bags and left. I didn't storm out the mansion because professor X wouldn't give me money to buy an Aston Martin (though tell him, if he doesn't mind too much listening in I my thoughts right now , that wouldn't be so bad ).' She heard a faint distinctive laugh.

'Red.' She welcomed Howlett's usual grow.

It was funny for a time Howlett found it hard settling on a nickname for herself as he had for Mom. The problem being quite clear (besides his un- adulterous love for her): they were both red heads.

Natasha's coy nature dropped as well as an octave: 'He's out there, I can feel it. He's cracked, afraid in a new foreign world and worst of all, alone.'

'I get that, but Hydra's suspicious behaviour only started two months ago, and you still haven't found him. How can you be sure you'll find him?'

It was a clear question of interest— innocent and relevant. Natasha dashed a handful of bills on the table in the form of a tip and drew her coat around her in the form of a perfect shield against the brittle winter air.

'Because I broke him, James. Hydra thought their little nursery rhythm would keep him at bay, that their distraction of Alexander Pierce's once youthful appearance could and would sway him. But I know the truth, I've seen his eyes.'

The crisp winters air threw a spectacular gust at her. 'And now that you've broken him, you think he's just going to respond like some docile puppy. Come on Red. You know persuading him could take up to a month or two if your hard ass — argh Jean.' She must have thrown a pillow, or maybe something harder at him. A soft peal of laughter left Natasha's lips.

As a child, Jean had found it was one of the most interactive responses brought out in Natasha— it had been an accident on Jean's part, Kurt had been goofing around with his teleporting and instead of reminding him to behave Jean had chucked a pillow at him. Half startled and shocked a soaring expletive had left the teenager's mouth. Jean's candid and innocent: 'Watch it, language.' Had done the trick. A sad smile graced her lips as she began heading down the street.

She missed her old family, the indestructible Tony Stark who would be in seven short years the one and only Iron Man: arrogant, sagacious, her dorky nerd. The Mighty Thor Oddinson, a soon to be house known name. God of thunder, prince of Asgard, a godly expatriate she'd gladly welcome back into her heart, and teach in secret the art of cooking pancakes. Then there was Bruce Banner, the incredible Hulk, she'd had a lot of once's with that guy, like for instance: she'd once thought she'd been afraid of the Hulk, once in love with Bruce, and once she'd thought she'd be enough to tether him to earth. She chuckled, silly girl.

It was hard now to dictate her old mantra of: love is for children, and like children it's simply a game. Not when she accounted the two men she'd die for— Clinton 'Clint' Francis Barton, had once resurrected her soul in Budapest, and in return she had owed him some kind of unfathomable debt; she'd been paying back in the form of friendship. In the end she'd physically returned the favor. She'd seen Clint a couple of times now, having snuck out to watch him from afar while he struggled to catch what his teacher had to say with his one perfect ear and another time seated in the bleachers as he hit bullseye with an arrow notched in his bow.

'He's a killer,' said Logan cutting through her reverie, if she'd been fresh into the Red Room, she might have faltered. 'You said so yourself, without reading through his file. Are you sure you can bring him back from the darkness. It took me months; Jeannie and the professor worked their tails off to get me to where I am. And even sometimes, your quick reflexes are a better form of restraint than their mystic minds.' With a long puff of air, she whispered: 'I'll be with him till the end of the line.'

She heard someone quack at the other end of the line, sure an image erected themselves from the deep recesses of her mind: once blond hair, dirty brown hair with a full scruff of a beard to match, wearing a torn and worn stealth suit; he'd looked his best on the run. And selfishly, he'd been all hers. Natasha hadn't needed to share him to much with Sam, Wanda or Vision. And the weight of his star- like eyes, she found were, if from what she remembered, usually on her.

'Stay out of my thoughts,' she snarled, bumping and swiftly apologising to the man passing her.

Steve. Her Steve. Not Captain America known to the world. Or Aka. Steven Rogers to the Army. The man out of time, Capsice – to Tony. Cap -to Scott Lang or Punk – to Bucky: had taught her to hope and believe again. Had spent stupid hours she could have used to tell him how he made her feel. Living with her in the compound, watching an up to date movie, learning about MP3's, gigabytes, and holding onto the past.

'I knew him before my various visits to S.H.I.E.L.D .' Natasha ducked into an alleyway off main street. 'When he was "prepodavate" ( the student) and I was "Belyy golub" ( the teacher) and even his eyes told me everything I needed to know. He fought back, the kid from Brooklyn was always fighting. The Red Room always underestimated the raging beat of a Brooklyn born heart. You have to admire the American soul.' She relaxed against the wall a bit more, surer than ever now, Logan, Mom, Dad and Professor X were listening in.

'Bucky,' a name she hadn't ever really uttered, he'd been James to her. Sergeant Barnes, not the childhood moniker he'd asked the world to call him by and in return, she, the world spat in his face and dubbed him: Winter Solider. 'was my friend.' How sure she was of that being a lie, even she didn't know.

'He deserves respect and to have been freed from that confinement. '

'And you're doing this … for you, yes?' a new voice had picked up the phone. Natasha cast her gaze out to the busy street.

'Mom.' She moaned. 'I've seen his soul, how can I not help him, the same way you sort me out.'

' Tasha, I'm only ... I'm worried about you of course . Not because you can't handle it . You're an X - Men and all mine. But you are putting yourself out there to be attacked. We've rightly kept you hidden under your own advice . And now you willingly risk your life for this man. ' Jean continued, ' from what you've shown me . You care deeply for this man? Though, are not in love with him. What makes him so special?'

Natasha's ears pricked up at the torrent of incoming sound . She slowed down her steps, eyes narrowing and cutting to every corner around her. For the tell tell human it was too early an alert , nothing to be noted amiss. But years of training in the Red Room made her whisper briskly: ' Mom, locate me okay. I'm blinded by the amount of people .'

Mom took in a sharp intake of breathe. The line was briefly silent a while before she said in a deep monotone: ' Target has turned down Main Street . Not dressed in his usual garb . Resisting hold. May have crippled a number of my men! Where the fuck are the Task Force when you need —'

A peal of police sirens rung in her ear. A commotion seemed to erupt into life, people began scattering out of the way, making moves to narrowly avoid the red-haired teenager or push her out of the way. Her gaze remained trained on the noise and chaos. That was until a large hand, bigger, cooler reflectively curled around her own.

Natasha's gaze snapped up to find and meet a pair of Brooklyn made blueish-grey eyes, a pair like those hadn't last been made since 1917.

Her mouth moved around something she felt intelligible enough to say, before he yanked her, and almost dragged her across the snow-covered road.

She snapped to life when he turned back to her quickly with desperate eyes: It was him.

A burst of relief and excitement was quickly replaced by outrage. 'Bastard,' she hissed.

And suddenly she understood what Steve might have been fighting for on the Hellicarer thirteen years from now — Bucky flashed her a smile: a shadow perhaps of Sergeant Bucky Barnes, Steve's best friend, a single fraction of the American spirit.

It was stupid and reckless, but she let him lead the way.

He pulled her down a maze of alleyways, ways he was clearly reminded of.  
He seemed to mumble under his breath, new stories he wanted to tell her, but died on his breathe when they turned sharply down another corner.

'How'd you know I'd be here in Brooklyn.'

Natasha wanted to point out Hydra from the sounds of it had found him too, but didn't want to lead him down the wrong stream of thought.

'Your lucky I've let you drag me along; a normal girl would've screamed by now.'

'You looked like someone from my past, future… I've seen your face…'

Natasha knew joking around with a cranium abused mind was not advised, but she missed his silver tongue; Steve had been blessed with and she had witnessed briefly while in the Red Room.

So, she was selfish, she wanted to see the man that was once before.

It was premature to say they'd lost them, Hydra, that was. But Brooklyn however new and updated was Bucky's haunts. She rested against the brick wall of a box like street, eyes on the man that was not all Bucky and Winter Solider.

'You better chose something and be decisive about it.' She cut back at him, leaning off the wall.

"You're pushing Natasha. Any reason why you're doing that." She heard her mom's voice echo in her thoughts.

'My head, it's fuzzy.' He clutched his head rather urgently. 'we always meet on a beach. You're wearing this thin material. And you always giggle when you look at me.'

Much like Steve, Bucky couldn't fathom the evolution of bathing suits. She didn't laugh now. She kept her eyes trained on him.

He was correct: he was unstable.

'Who are you!' He threw at her.

And yet she did not answer. She propelled herself off the wall, bringing her balled up fists into a fighting position.

"He needs a jog to his memory is all," she told mom.

'You drug me down the street, hand in mine and brought me along, without knowing my name. Why does it matter now?'

'I ... I don't know.' And then he lunged at her. The hours of intense ballet lessons were almost initiated. Mom and Dad, had thought bringing a positive bird's eye view to the art could replace the hatred the Red Room had brought in her. But instead of an elongated kick. Natasha rushed for Bucky's middle.

He was the Winter Solider, programmed to learn her fighting style in a way, F.R.I.D.A.Y so artificially excelled in.

Bucky hit a bed of snow and was surprised to find the teenager pinning him with her thighs. She raised her fist and was swiftly flung off him. They both scrambled to their feet, using the cushion of snow as a needed reprieve.

Natasha countered all his hard-hitting attacks with the defence of her right forearm. she felt that she should scramble for a dustbin lid, and maybe mirror something from his past - something similar to Steve. She turned away from him and nearly climbed up the wall, to spin kick him — when he caught a hold of her graceful form. This was the Black Widow, a product the Red Room had once built upon. A creature he'd taught and moulded in another lifetime.

Natasha's back contacted the wall, the pain was immediate to broker a deal with her spin and onwards. She bowed her head against the bed of snow, her salvation in a manner like prayer.

'Damnit Buck, I'm trying to help you,' she shot at him, the build-up of a raging bull appeared to stop and stare at her curiously.

"Natasha! Nat! Are you okay? He threw you against the wall like a rag - doll why aren't you doing anything. Fight him!"Dad's voice exploded in her mind.

"I'm sorry Zeppelin, I can't leave you out there with no back-up. Like it or not, I have you located and targeted. We're coming." She heard Mom ringing in her ear.

"I don't need back -up, I'm getting through to him!"

Natasha pushed herself against the wall breathing hard and fast a similar fashion to her attacks. Different from her regular fighting style, anything the Red Room or the X-Men had taught her. It was direct, stupid and a downright American blow out.

" He's beating your ass Natalia, you're limping on one leg for Christ sake. And for some god forsaken reason, are decided against using your powers."

Bucky's stayed heavily fixed on her, his eyes skimmed her bulled up fists, her defensive pose and defiant green eyes.

'Look kind of like a punk I know… knew.'

'Good to know.'

Suddenly Natasha straightened up.

'I don't want to fight you.'

'You're not fighting correctly.'

'There is no correct way, Bucky.' She hissed, rotating her shoulder gingerly.

'Who are you? I feel ... I know, I'm sure that I know you.' Bucky hissed, the monster, the Winter Solider might have flung her, or driven a fist into her. Bucky, Steve's best friend however, stared at her desperately.

She'd had a choice: to grow with a teenage Clint, bring him to the mansion with food and warmth. But instead found stormy blue eyes on her— Bucky, she sighed. Yes, she released him from his mental prison, but that was the first lock. This man, unfortunately, would need him — his best friend , who wouldn't wake till eleven years into their future. And who with all this power in their hands, could leave Bucky simply how he was before.

He'd created some space between the two of them, that she either wisely or not so, closed in on him.

'Do you know your eyes have a bit of blue in them?' Bucky noted boring into her. She knew. She hadn't always but after she'd woken up, after Steve had dropped the stone back to it's resting place. She cut her gaze away from him. She could not however offer up a girlish flush.

'Why did you grab my hand, Bucky?'

He twitched, she saw his weariness transform momentarily into hope again.  
'You knew my name,' he gruffed.

She nodded.

'Your name is James Buchanan Barnes — Buchanan like in F. Scott. Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, secretly your best friend: Steven Grant Rogers' favourite novel, though it's recorded being: Call of the Wild by Jack London. When you got sick, Sarah, Steve's ...' She trailed off fascinated as he hesitantly.

'Mom, was a nurse. The punk made it a habit to get in to fights like some fucking knight on the round table defending a dames honour or doing what's right.' And then with beautiful desperate eyes— 'What happened to Stevie? I thought you'd bring him?'

'What do you mean?' Natasha asked vaguely alarmed and sure Mom was too, she could feel a jolt in her skull again.

'We usually meet on a beach or sometimes outside Steve's apartment. The punk never comes out — but you take me to him. You showed me how once I saved him from drowning— but didn't skimp on the fact I'm the one who happened to beat the shit out of him. Or once when — 'he blinked to a stop to find Natasha's finger pressed to his mouth.

'My name is Natalia Romanoff - Grey -Summers. I thought you should know , since my parents are coming. And part of my family too, I hope you make a good impression Mr. Barnes.'

'Who said I trust you,' he whispered offering something like a shit eating grin.

'Not me?' She returned as a gust of wind blew her hair into her face. Her mom and dad, she sensed emerging from the X - Wing.

* * *

Author's Notes:

This fic can also be read on A03.

So I wasn't to to happy about Endgame. I won't talk about Steve's arc because if I did , I would provide a dissertation.

I've been trying to find a piece of work to work on and release my angst.

So I guess this is my What if series — solely Natasha oriented : if the soul stone's sentience can show compassion ?

This is a Romanoger's love story, with the inclusion of the X-Men because , why not!

I will explain some new relation links too the further we get into the narrative.

I hope you enjoy.

Thanks

Greekgeekable.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**December 2001**

**Westchester, New York**

** Natasha**

Ordinarily Natasha wouldn't be brazened enough to bring a boy upstairs to her room— but on this account an old fossil tucked on the large window ledge knees drawn to his chest, was surely an exception made.

Towel drying her hair, leaning against the adjacent door frame, the echo of a man similarly fashioned in the late 1910's came to mind. Of course, they'd been on the run, harried and rushed but the space for time given to the both of them, for Natasha to ask that question: If it came down to you and me, and it was the other way around… had felt like an eternity.

She wasn't a big fan of forever, but god, it would have been nicer on the universe to hold on to more moments like that… no, to have created a few more with him.

She felt the brush of heavy storm clouds rest on her. Her eyes flicked to attention, resting just above Bucky's questioning brows.

'Are you sure it's alright for me to sleep here. Like the Professor and the guy with the claws suggested there are loads of rooms here— it is a mansion after all.' Bucky recalled, still sounding taken aback by the fact he was in an actual mansion. Funny for some reason, she'd assumed that Steve and Bucky came in a pair, that they had near the start of their friendship as they had presumably ended it (she could never be too sure of course, dying, jumping off a cliff sacrificing your whole personhood and everything, left a lot of gaps in the knowledge she knew.) Anyway, she'd just assumed that when Steve had visited Howard, Bucky as always had been at his side.

Natasha shook her head at him, offering the ghost of a smirk on her lips as she approached. Bucky's broad shoulders had obscured a measure of her large panelled window that opened up the luminous expanse of the full moon, reflective but by no means the main attraction of the nights sky. A scatter of stars twinkled down back at him, as Natasha gingerly plonked herself next him.

He softly looked over her, wearing some spare clothes dad had and watched her wiggle her toes in her PJ shorts and oversized t-shirt.

'This won't be fair on you – the answer I'm about to give you,' she said answering his questioning gaze. 'simply I am basing my response on assumptions and hopes, upon a version or rather person like you from another timeline, year and trust basis.'

She'd dropped her gaze to her ankles, abnormally skinner than the rest of her shapely form. A present mom had given to her, to inherit. 'That's not the best admission of the truth to give, huh.'

She felt him stiffen, the brush of his titanium arm kissed the hairs on her arm. History denoted, Bucky wasn't wonder shy of women, perhaps even at one point giving Howard Stark and his scion, Tony a run for their money. But his trembling form could be mistaken to a novice of that of a tearful man. They'd be half right, perhaps. You could feel his fear but importantly his restraint performed runs down the base of his being, like a rock band doing a warm-up.

'You keep talking like you expect me to know who you are, what I mean to you, what you're meant to mean to me, how we're connected to Steve. But more importantly, you somehow want and need be to trust you, even when you refuse to look me in the eye.' His wispy speech a quiet warning.

'I'm afraid if I look at you Bucky, you won't like what you see. And for now, it wouldn't be right to overwhelm you.'

'With what? I have chosen to trust you, and all I've got from you is border line mystic mumbo jumbo. Look, the least you can do is offer me some facts, please. Could you do that …. We don't even need to talk. We can do that thing your mom does, when I can hear her in my mind.'

She was already shaking her head. 'It freaks you out, it already does now, because you're very sure she's listening in — she is by the way. But so's the Professor.'

His gaze determined to pin her with a cast of re-assessment, caused another chuckle to tumble from her mouth. 'My powers are similar to mom's. I can get into your head too, although mine's chosen to be more visceral.'

Bucky blinked back his surprise, evidently sure she would not admit she wasn't quite human. He seemed to take this in stride to be quite honest: 'So you were born like this? Not like Steve who received a serum? You lot— your mom, dad, Logan, Rogue?'

Natasha was pleased to note the tickle of pink brush his high cheekbones at the mention of Rogue. Though with the combination of her southern croon and her dazzling introduction of: 'Red, said she was off gallivanting on an archeologist's dream. Pleased to see she got that right, sugar.'

'Stop it,' Natasha's playful warning was muffled by the hug she'd given Ororo.

She began fiddling with a frayed piece of fabric attached to the pillows piled against her bay window. 'Yeah,' And then against her better judgement, her gaze snapped to his. Blazing green locked with his thunder cloud like eyes. 'is that too weird?'

* * *

It was slow at first, like the effects of creeping paralysis, it was best described like the loosened floor boards of a decaying old house. Each puzzle piece like shape of her room dissolved around them. Replacing her dimly lit room, and the large bay window they shared with the feeling of plush sand between their hands.

The rush of bright blues — the sky and the golden grain — the sand, threw Bucky's attention around the landmark with a harried expression. 'We're on my beach. I even think you've added a volcano— is it dormant?' His tone was half excited and half astounded.

'Yes.'

His gaze snapped to her and blood rushed to his cheeks again. She in all fairness was dressed for the occasion: in a bikini. She felt his flustered gaze on her as she inspected her immaculate abdomen. The scar she'd been supposed to collect from the Winter Solider eight years into the future, would never form. After all, how could she say goodbye to bikinis when Bucky had settled on looking at the spot an inch from her in the sand.

'This isn't real,' she began. She was sure they both knew that by now— but for a girl who hadn't liked awkward silences and previously found little use in talk when not necessary, she made sure as hell to fill the air. 'you seem to like beaches. I'm not a big fan because of dad — his family, biological one— may have drowned or been burned alive by molten lava. The only survivors at the time recorded were Dad and Uncle Alex. So yeah, the volcano is dormant.'

They shared a tartan beach spread and assortment of foods he must have partial to laid out for the both of them.

The question seemed to teeter on the edge of his tongue, a lot of them happened to, actually, she noted: 'So are you projecting my minds thoughts… Is this like my "happy place" made real? Are we still in your room.'

Bucky wore swimming trunks and his once metal arm was made flesh again. He raised his arm in wonder inspecting it. 'I mean if one of your powers were to regrow limbs, I would have come looking for you.'

She snorted, it was of few times he showed shades of the young man who'd been Steve Rogers best friend and comrade. Not Hydra's Lapdog.

'You wish, if it were I'd definitely be in high commodity.' Then her smile dropped a fraction. 'my mom is a telepath and my dad has for want of a better term laser vision. Cross those genes together and you're blessed with a creature who looks instead of into your mind (mom's specialty) opens up your darker recesses — your soul.'

'Uhh... so this is a projection of my soul. We're still in your room.'

She shook her head and scooped a handful of grapes from their hoard of food. Distracted, she plopped a few in her mouth. 'This is an air-tight pocket dimension running at a decelerated rate than the real world. We only have access because you opened your heart and soul up to me Bucky. I mean even when you didn't know me, those sad eyes of yours invited me in. '

He continued to study her, noting once again she did not make eye contact, spoke to his profile rather than to him directly.

'The only other person who could 'break in' is mom. But then she is strong enough to do so. This place as it was is called the soul world. For the time being I have collected your soul — "and you are my prisoner.".'

Bucky demanded her attention and colluded it. He could see it now, a faint glow to her iridescent eyes — besides the flecks of blue. She seemed to be something denoted as unearthly.

'But you are human right?'

She gave a non-committed form of confirmation.

'Sort of. Professor X explains it like this,' she said casting her index finger as a pointer as she used the sand much like s whiteboard. 'we're constantly growing and evolving. And people like me we're just running on a slightly different track from you. We eat the same, blink the same and shit too. I just happen to be a mutant. But I don't think that makes us too different from each other, do you?' She said offering him a jovial smile.

'So, you lot are special. I mean my friend was - wait you know that already—Steve, he was like a science experiment but — '

'No one could be more impossible than that man.' Whispered Natasha.

Silence built around them, the crescendo of waves beating the beaches bank, and the salt air slapped gleefully at their faces.

You did know him, didn't you? '

'What makes you say that?'

'You sound like you're talking about the skinny punk I knew, a kid who really just had a good heart and wanted to do the right thing.'

She offered him a beautiful look: 'He was my friend.' She sniffed. 'and I miss him.'

Bucky was shaking his head now, Natasha snapped to attention.

'What you think I'd make something up like that? That I didn't know—'

Bucky raised a gentle hand, she stared at his hand, acting as guide for her attention. She jumped slightly when he rested his large cool arm on top of her own.

'I think it's right to say, it's your tone. He must have meant a lot to you. Did you lose him? Something like how he lost me.'

Natasha's brilliant eyes crashed into his, a jagged rush of breath crawled up her throat.

'Good guess…' he whispered as Natasha reminded herself to count to ten in soft Russian.

She tucked a nuisance lock of hair behind her ear, offering him a doe like look.

'I had red in my ledger and what I did … it seemed fitting. It was a way to save everyone.' She said playing with shifting weight of sand between her slender fingers.

'I want to say that I regretted it, jumping off a cliff knowing I'd never see certain faces again. Hearing him laugh again, or watching Clint's kids play baseball with each other and rope me along in their game. – Oh, shit Bucky, I'm sorry.' She said. He was clearly entranced by her words, but the dips in his brows told her a clear truth: he had no idea what she was talking about. He wasn't her James, and not exactly Steve's Bucky.

The quick rise of his brow at her curse caused a giggle to escape. 'How could I be so selfish, huh? When what I did, what started this whole journey, was so I could bring you back— all of you.'

She scrambled to her feet running a hand roughly ran through her dark mane of red hair. 'in a past life Bucky, you were James to me and I was Natalia Romanoff. I was born in communist Russia, I was your student and you were my teacher. I once enjoyed bikinis until 2009 when you shot me clean through my abdomen – goodbye bikinis. In 2014, under HYDRAs nursery rhymes and constant cryogenically induced state, you almost beat your best friend to an inch of his life. In 2016, your best friend started a Civil War to defend you honor. In 2018, a Mad Titan wiped half the universe out of existence. And after finding you, Steve lost all over again. For five years we tried to find a way to bring you back, our little family— I heard we did.'

She offered him a free hand. The blinding flash of the sun's rise wrapped her in its embrace illuminating just how other and different the creature once known as: Natasha Romanoff now was. 'I'd be happy to show you Bucky. How I got here and maybe answer that question your soul keeps asking me.'

'And what's that?'

'Why did she choose me.'

He was slow to move, hesitant to that of a teasing toddler. In this realm she'd removed his titanium arm, but yet and still, his still felt cool to the touch: 'Hold on tight will you.'

* * *

Once again, the scene around them appeared to crumble to pieces as the violent and yet wonderful contrast of the indigo infused night sky of a foreign planet filled their gazes. Speckled with an incessant amount of starlight, a shadowed figure made their way up the steep mountain. Close behind him, a cloaked figure had drawn their hood back. He was bald and his skin had been stretched, pulled and was a monstrous shade of red. '

Natasha felt Bucky squeeze her hand tighter. 'Him. What is he doing here?' He hissed.

"So, this is your penance then, seeking the powers of a god." The familiar voice commented, his Brooklyn accent known to both observing parties.

Steve emerged into the planets strange light, dressed in a white suit (something she supposed best comparable for Bucky, 'is like a squab- diving suit" she told him).

"And yet Captain, you have been deemed worthy of a god it seems." Something swung in Steve's right hand. Natasha squinted and almost squawked- what was Mjolnir doing in his grip.

'Can they hear us?'

Natasha shook her head.

'The Soul World is a bit like a tape recorder, we document important events that have an effect on us.'

"I can sense, as too does the last stone you possess, you had all six stones on you at some point and time. And now, you wish the return the last of the stones and separate her furthermore from her sisters, until time starts up again. Is that wise Son of Sarah?"

'We'd agreed in order to bring you back, we'd travel through time to reverse the damage the Mad Titan had inflicted on you. They must have done it— but look at Steve. I wonder what it cost.'

A look of disgust marred Steve's handsome face, his handsome tired face, she noted. He seemed drained in fact, battle weary, but more so lonely. Where was Sam, where was the Bucky of 2023, neither of them would have let him journey somewhere alone.

Between delicate fingers the green infinity stone, glinted and gloated back at Natasha, as Steve presented it. "My last stop and then I return home. "

Both basked in the purple hue of Vormir's atmosphere, they peered over the cliff as silence consumed the Red Skull and Captain America.

"She was brave, valiant, it would be a disservice to note a sign of fear. She was content. I say this Captain, because even when you return the stone, she 'signed a binding contract.'—"

"A soul for a soul. I know, our friend warned us. We tried to bring her back, Bruce snapped his fingers and near all of the universe was restored. But what about ours? What about—"

"They called you the man out of time Captain, Captain America, and Star-spangled man with a plan. Perhaps they missed out one moniker: The Man who always waits too long. I take it you took too long."

Natasha could not rationalise how Steve was comfortable enough to speak so freely to his enemy. But grief did funny things to people.

"I wish she knew. Knew what she meant to us … her family. How Morgan, Nate, Lia, Cooper and Pete already miss her like crazy. How pissed Tony was at her. How lost Wanda is without her. How Thor is determined the move the cosmic forces behind space and time with old magic to bring her back and how… how dare she leave me. I wish she'd know how much I'd miss her, how she made me feel. How for some stupid stone, she never got to keep one promise — " he turned back to the Red Skull with sad glittering eyes as he raised the stone to prepare it's decent. "she was meant to see me in a minute."

She felt Bucky slid his heavy arm around her shoulder, he drew her to his side in a similar fashion she wished she could reach for Steve.

A bewildering blast of light blinded them as purple reigned around the planet. When the descent of the soul stone has settled, Steve despite himself looked back wistfully, hoping to see her one last time.

"Please, please come back to me." Were his departing words.

Natasha was a strong woman, she'd have to be to survive all she had, but as she felt her knees crash against the uneven earth, she could have never fathomed the worst pain ever found was Steve.

He didn't turn and make his way back down the mountain. He would go back now, to 2023. In the flash of an eye he was gone, but the soft roll of tears remained present on Natasha's face.

Bucky followed her descent, slowly and hesitantly. As she absorbed his attention like a porous sponge.

'It's coming now ...'

'What's coming...' He began as two figures seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

She'd somehow expected to still appear crumpled and abused — like one of those rag-dolls little girls were so fond of. But much like her female companion in front of her. They appeared translucent but defined in their genetic structure. Natasha strayed to the ghostly figure in front of her past life.

She was several inches taller than Natasha. With austere silver locks and Natasha's brilliant green eyes copied onto her own frame. She was willowy and her attention seemed to shift from the spot Steve left on back to Natasha.

Her voice even sounded like a faint whispery shade: "He came back for you, and even when he knew he couldn't have you back. He returned me."She flashed closer to Natasha, a hairs breathe apart. "he must have really loved you."

Past ghostly Natasha did not react, the Natasha on the floor with Bucky, flinched.

"He was willing to exchange souls, postpone his intended journey back to 1945 back to Peggy, to have their dance. And maybe stay with her forever."

Natasha knew crumbling further into Bucky's chest was not a sign of strength. But how could she stay strong when — 'Steve doesn't love easily. He was/ is a bit guarded with who he gives his heart to. But hear me Natasha, he must have been stupid in love with you. Why else would he hold onto you as long as possible —'

And then his eyes grew to the size of saucers.

"I have never consumed that emotion before. Souls, lust and desire. But that was pure visceral love. What is that like Natalia daughter of Ivan. You are but a simple human, born to mortal beings, fragile and temporary. And yet, I feel jealousy my Natalia. Please speak."

And the ghostly shade of Natasha did: "Steve." She whispered.

While Natasha holding onto Bucky didn't understand, the soul stone in her corporal frame did. She'd been holding onto Natasha's gaze. "Means the world to you. As does Bucky, Sam, Clint, Thor, Bruce, Peter Parker onwards ... you made a little family scatter much like my counterparts once again — the other stones. "and then the stone sighed.

"What happened here, the Mad Titans partial success with the use of myself and my siblings— the snap has caused damage to this timeline: certain events were never meant to occur. Looking into your soul tells me so."

Bucky's attention diverted to the soul stone.

"You are a part of me now, Natalia Romanoff. Your noble sacrifice and his— your Steve's modesty. I am yours and you are mine now. Wherever you chose to go, I am bound to follow."

And then the shade Natasha spoke, her tone brushed with a stroke of confusion. "A soul for a soul, we were told. Aren't I died. How do you expect to bring me back to — "

The Soul stone placed a gentle finger on Natasha's lip. And suddenly in a similar way to how Steve returned the stone to its origin point— blinding light consumed Bucky and an observing Natasha. Still tucked safely in his arms.

When she was brave enough to look on the scene, the soul stone was gone. A Natasha similar in height and weight as the girl in Bucky's arms was projected in front of them.

The creature in front of them spoke with Natasha's voice: "how could I look into your soul, look into your past and not want to save you. What happened here ... your soul was never mine to collect. And I want to say, here we are. But that would be wrong Natalia. Something went wrong with this timeline, but I touched your soul and knew there was something good about you. I am close enough to my siblings that I that I can restart things. Move time, space, power for you. Would you like that? To start again?"

And then Natasha spoke with her regular voice: "What would it cost?"

"Everything." The Stone spoke.

Natasha's muffled voice snaked out of the space Bucky had left over.

'What did "everything" matter. When I could fix everything. Do you think tactical Natasha even took the time to consider the negatives?' She poked her head up, locking eyes with a silent watchful Bucky.

While everything in the Soul World required shattering and the breakdown of a landscape. Returning to Natasha's bedroom was a seamless process back to reality.

* * *

They both fell ungracefully back to their original positions. Meaning a resounding bang echoed off her bedroom walls. It didn't seem to bother Bucky though. He scrambled to his feet, gently helping her into a sitting position.

His large metal hand cupped her check as he dropped his forehead against her's.

'Having fun there with my daughter?' Spoke up Jean leaning against the open-door frame.

* * *

Author's Notes:

I hope some stuff begins to make sense now.

Thanks,

Greekgeekable


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**December 2001**

**Westchester, New **

'Here, just how you like it.'

Ororo handed him a mug of steaming coffee – somewhat absently as they made their way down the maze of corridors. He'd been in the mansion for little over a week and though he was aware he was living with at least three telepaths he could count on one hand, he didn't mind the routine set up of a guide. Ororo was a beautiful slender woman, with billows of white hair, that did little to age her. He'd been caught staring a few times, and wondered if know was one of those moments.

When Bucky looked back at her, she offered him a warm smile— ah yes, definitely caught. She rolled her shoulders leading the way out of the dorm-like corridor dedicated to the student bedrooms. One slouching arm of her jumper exposed her coffee toned complexion.

She was always the first one to greet him in the morning, save for Natasha— who'd originally set upon offering him her bed; before he'd flat out refused and Logan had threatened to dagger him with a pair of his claws— she usually shook him awake from his curled position on the large widow's ledge. Ororo was clearly complacent with the idea of finding an 'ageing man' occupying Natasha's space. He was actually pretty sure, she encouraged it: exhibit A— being the coffee.

It was a creamy consistency he was coming to appreciate. He opened his mouth, ready to ask how she knew — 'Natasha told me.' Was her answer.

For all her talk about her powers being different to her mother's they sounded very much the same. 'Saying that Natasha also knows what your favorite drink will be in the future — a black coffee with two sugars. She'd thought it'd be funny, if you knew.'

Bucky raised a brow encouraging the mutant to go on (Mutant, it was strange to associate these people as other really. Or maybe that was why they'd been so nonchalant in allowing him to their home.) Ororo didn't seem to different from him, but then again, she could conceal her powers.

'So, Natasha's powers allow her to see the future?'

It was a bit disconcerting realising this would become his norm.

Ororo offered him a demure look before taking a generous sip of her mug – from what he saw floating in it: it was something green and perhaps earthy.

They made it to the main entry way, teenagers streaked past, leaving and arriving to the dining room.

Bobby and Anne -Marie offered him cheerful morning grins as they exited the dining area: 'I have to thank you Bucky,' said Bobby, causing Bucky to blink.

'Uh...'

'Speak in full sentences, Bobby,' chided Rouge, with an eye-roll that look rather familiar. 'What he's essentially saying is thank you for your existence, sweetheart. Natasha doesn't always cook — for a time we'd thought she'd caught on Jean's non-cooking bug. But we've got training and I don't know how fast our asses are gonna move with our stomachs lugged like this. '

She dragged Bobby further away, offering Bucky and Ororo a :'See you both in the training room.' From Rouge, and from Bobby: 'I genuinely think it's just Nat's diabolical plan to fatten us up and slow us down.'

'Are those two always like that? 'Bucky walked purposely past the collection of hungry students and through the swing doors of the more corporate kitchen— into the one the Xavier family had cultivated for years.

She had her back to him. Her dark red mane of hair, pulled into a ponytail — wear a very baggy t-shirt.

'Are you talking about my idiots?' Natasha inquired. 'Or another pair? I think Rogue and Kurt actually make a pretty interesting combination.'

Ororo sat patiently in front of the kitchen island, flicking a finger of indication to Bucky to do the same.

'Your idiots,' intoned Ororo.

Bucky blinked rapidly as she slid a pile of chocolate chip pancakes in front of him. He felt his stomach grumble at the sight of the symmetrical entourage on his plate: 'I used to hate making these. It wasn't like the Red Room thought it was a requirement of our training— to learn how to cook. But I think Steve was horrified to find out, the best my cooking extended to pasta.' She offered him the bottle of syrup. 'Sarah must have been a hell of a cook— I had this conspiracy theory that Steve was secretly trying to fatten me up. Anyway,' she poured some syrup on her own stack. 'Bon appetite.'

His first bite was curious, but his second, third, fourth and onwards ravenous. He paused when he found wondrous eyes pinned on him. Natasha was nursing a mug black coffee opposite the breakfast table from himself.

But this girl had big brown eyes. She couldn't have been but a few years, maybe months older than Natasha. Unlike Rogue, the girl didn't offer him a coy inviting smile. Hers was shy and — 'Just say hi Kitty. He doesn't bite, well much.' Teased Natasha, behind her mug. The quirk of her lip pulled up.

Kitty flushed a nasty shade of red— it kind of reminded him of a badly burnt tomato. 'Don't Tasha, 'she moaned.

But in return Natasha simply winked.

'Stay out of my head, Tasha, you know how rude that is.'

Calm and serene she replied: 'Then perhaps you shouldn't let me – or project so loudly Kitty. We've talked about this.' She said inching her finger tips to rub her temples.

'If it hurts then good'

Natasha seemed to hum in agreement.

'Okay, now you're just acting like a bi—' something slapped Kitty's face and the sound of spluttering was not the thing to cause the eruption in Natasha; it was Jean's effortless chide of: 'Language.'

Natasha he'd witness had a habit of smirking, smiling more times than most. But her jingle was something else. She threw her head back breathing in the humour of the situation.

'No need to be childish,' said Jean drawing the wet cloth from Kitty's a gasped form, Bucky watched enchanted as he done so every time he'd watch her withdraw something through the air towards herself.

'This is a clear bias right here if I ever saw it— the only reason Tasha, is even absolved of anything is because of those —' she pointed an accusatory finger at the stack of pancakes laying innocently on the plate.

'Hey,' said Natasha brandishing her spatula like one of Logan's claws, 'these were made with precision and care.'

'Very relevant, I'm sure,' said Bucky, sliding into his seat to find Natasha smile at him — this he was sure, was one of her special smile, maybe reserved for him and a few others.

'Nat— Natasha, can I ask something?'

She hummed, sitting adjacent from him half entertaining a newspaper and her cooled cup of coffee. She'd seemed fixed on one particular page for some time now.

'Your shirt, ah, is it Steve's. Like it's not like you could bring it with you across dimensions and re-starting universes?'

Her brilliant verdant gaze licked his own, before offering him a coy smile: 'What's to stop me? The Ancient One is just in Manhattan with the Time Stone.

Bucky opened his mouth, eyes widening — of course she knew where the infinity Stones were located.

Originally when she'd trusted him with her secrets, Jean who'd he initially thought was there to chuck him out of her room — navigated as verbal assistant with the processes and purposes of the cosmic stones.

'Mom, can read my mind. This is just one of the copies from both of your SSR days I picked up from the Smithsonian that features the harold's of Captain America and the Howling Commando's. It's a copy Steve's shirt before the serum. Your mural is a lovely dedication too, though someone can't count— they got your date of birth wrong.'

'When did you start visiting him, staring at his mural?'

'I visited you all.'

Bucky raised a brow.

'It's true,' she cried, 'Roe, isn't it? I asked for your leather jacket (they make replicas in the gift shop for my twelfth birthday— I still don't fit it too well.' She offered him a shrug.

Bucky studied her— they'd only know each other a week, near her whole family could read his thoughts, and unlike one of them, he didn't have supernatural powers and yet, when she looked interested in him —

'Bucky, do you want to go out with me?'

He almost fell off his seat. She chuckled under her breathed, and so did Ororo.

'Not like that Buck, you've been cooped up in this house for a week. And you need a different setting is all. If you're worried about anyone recognizing you, I can alter others perception of you like?' Her tone had absorbed into something melancholic and demur.

He scrambled for her hand resting on the kitchen island, hesitated and the exchanged hands in an awkward gesture.

Natasha shook her head: 'I trust you.'

He blushed — 'Maybe, or maybe you're just relying on a memory of me?'

She scrunched her face, her nose becoming something adorable: 'it's so so bits, but you're forgetting, you let me into your soul. I know everything about you — every lie, every lustful thought, every kill. Fitting for a woman who had red on her ledger.' She leaned across the table, lightly tapping his face, before tenderly cupping it.

'I'm honestly the last person to judge you, Buck.'

* * *

Ororo was the one leading him to the training room, Natasha was just clearing up — he'd hoped she'd be fast about it. He wanted to know if he'd be able to decipher the different fight styles she adopted when she opted to use and not use her powers when defending herself.

Sparring should be fine, it was practice for when the real battle would occur. It had popped up to Bucky more like a wondering recognition: Natasha had restarted the universe with little change in mind. Some changes were evident, with her finding him before (more than likely) his expected time, her having powers, and maybe more. But the plan must have been to follow this new restart along the similar lines of the original.

'There's a fight coming.' He breathed, half absorbed in his thoughts till he felt a heavy set of eyes bore into the back of his skull.

He found Ororo staring at him stunned: 'For goodness sake, please tell me we don't have another telepath in this house. How did you know so fast?'

Bucky offered her his best dumbfounded look.

'I – what?' He said, as Ororo snatch his hand and began sprinting —

They reached the pith- point of the ensuing chaos: students — novice and experienced ones, teachers, Jean, Scott, Kurt and Kitty he saw were scattered on the lawn standing a posed a man with a metal helmet levitating above the ground.

He had a collection of mutants too, but Bucky would trust them as fast as he could chuck Steve over his shoulder back in the day.

'Charles,' And the mutant, the levitating one's voice was resonant and bounced off invisible walls. 'my old friend, what have you done. As an omega mutant gifted in telepathy — surely you would have read his mind, checked his mind: even used that infernal device of the internet — to look him up.'

The mutant pointed to Bucky— who sighed. What could Hydra have commissioned him to do? The mutant he noted had a faint German intonation to his American words. Hydra, the xenophobic arsehole, rooted in bigoted behaviour had used him like some sick marionette doll to execute whatever wants and wishes they had conceived.

Bucky's blunt finger nails dug into his naked palm. Until he absorbed a familiar presence he was begin to associate: her glorious profile wasn't exactly blank, more amused than anything. Her best distinguishing feature were the subtle dusting of freckles on her cheek buds.

Jean lightly squeezed his shoulder, and spoke in a loud, clear voice:

'We are very clear on who James 'Bucky' Buchanan Barnes happens to be, thank you. Clearly your telepath, if she was anything worth her salt would have been able to notice: his usual working process — is guilt and disillusionment. He holds a cloudy film around him — quite a few of his more haunting actions, you can taste were not of his own volition. Back down Mag— '

'HYDRA's lapdog!' Snapped a new voice — Bucky stared at a woman who as blue as Kurt, she had slicked back red hair, scales and stood entirely naked. No one seemed offended (except Bucky— but that was for something else).

'Please Raven, see reason. If both Jean and I vetted the boy — 'Charles paused, and passed him a curious look. Natasha had been playfully calling him: My archived fossil point two — and she may be right. Biologically, at least, Charles was his junior. Bucky almost, almost smiled at that.

'It's Mystique, Xavier! And how dare you, read my thoughts, telepath. That piece of shit, hunted me down for seven months straight. He's orders were clear assassinate the scum. Do you know how many of our kind he's executed! How many of our brothers and — '

Natasha, wherever she'd sprang, flew or sprinted from appeared at his side, inappropriately dressed for the occasion in casual Jean short and a tank top. Her luscious dark mane of red hair (much like her mom's) was pulled to high ponytail, draw his hand into her own. She'd fixed her gaze on Mystique, who seemed unable to open her mouth. Slowly the blue mutant fell to her knees, one leg at a time. Her face contorting around invisible pain.

'So, I take it, this isn't simulation training.' He drawled.

She threw him a handsome smile — roguish in-fact, her skinny wrist lazily raised, subduing but yet prepared for the onslaught that would come their way from the Brotherhood of Mutants.

'That line right there has promoted you to my new best friend.'

He snorted at her, shaking his head at how strange she was. However, she had noted this was a Natasha without the influence of the Red Room's very helpful education system.

Suddenly the playful light was replaced by a look of soft intrigue — 'How in 1945, Bucky Barnes fell from a German freight train and was picked to pieces and then reworked by Hydra. How he has unknowingly killed - without control of his motions. I'm not asking you to pity him— Bucky hates that shit— but blaming the puppet instead of the puppeteer is bullshit.'

Mystique clawed at her throat, scrambling the release, before an invisible force flung Natasha off her feet.

Bucky's attention zeroed in on a woman in white, she was provocatively dressed in a way designed to capture all your attention. Her platinum blonde hair fell in perfect curls around her beautiful face.

She was the epitome of the woman in white, with something akin to lingerie and thigh high boots. Jean actually hissed— the bizarre noise drew Scott closer to his wife side, depositing a sweet kiss of her forehead and something like a whispered promise.

The woman in white watched them with malice and said, in a lovely voice: 'Oh Scottie, are you still trying to reassure Jean, she's only one for you? Cute, really — 'then she turned her attention on him, and licked her lips. 'if Natalia saved your mind simply for that body of yours, then we're functioning on the same brain waves. '

Bucky felt something cold begin to creep up his body, before he was tackled to the ground. Natasha with blazing green eyes, stared down at him long enough to offer him: his smile, before levelling a look at the woman in white.

'Please gladly fuck off Emma,' both Bucky and Natasha helped the other to their feet. Emma's soft cornfield blue eyes chuckled.

She like most of the mutant, must age at a decelerated rate. Because she, like Jean and Ororo were a pleasure to look at.

Emma tutted: 'Sorry about before, I simply couldn't have you murder Mystique— "but you don't do that anymore", do you? You joined the X-Men and self-righteously save — '

Emma was uprooted from where she stood by Scott's quartz beam. His growl, though too far for Emma to hear, featured.

'Join? Now that's incorrect, isn't it? Do not speak on things you don't know Emma. Just because you've skimmed the surface area of her mind. Does not mean you know!'

'If your brat didn't employ blockers, maybe we would have destroyed you long ago — '

'Erik will never kill Charles though. You don't need to read his mind to know that. Thank you, Emma, — what you probably read in my mind and saw: was Bucky right? Bravo, bravo good woman.' She offered a brief clap of her hands, approaching slowly to position herself in front of Bucky. 'But no, no, who you saw, and was solely looking for was The Winter Solider, he hasn't been here for some time. Perhaps you should clean your inner eye, before commanding a whole army to our front lawn'

She gave Emma a small curtsy.

'So, I hate to be the cliché, but if you want to get to my Bucky, you'll have to come through me,' she offered a generous smirk.

Emma drew back her lips and snarled: 'Gladly.'

'Fun fact: Emma - 'said Natasha, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. 'you were almost always going to be a wonderful disraction.'

Three additional parties — seemed to understand the meaning behind that, as Emma stiffened, Scott blushed and Jean's eyes seemed to flash opaque.

Something like a huge bolder came streamlining towards both he and Natasha 's direction.

She was a dancer, however, a ballerina who'd never danced more deadlier. She used her 'Widow Bites' in the same way Steve was known to use his shield.

'Are you ready for this? I feel like this will almost be as great as Budapest.'

Before Bucky could ask her about Budapest and what was remotely interesting about it:

'Here Hair take this, Red says your good with a gun.' Logan snapped at him.

Bucky looked to the Professor, whose voice invaded his thoughts: 'You will simply subdue, not kill another soul in this fight.'

Bucky nodded.

Kitty and Kurt paired off, an optical illusion who seemed to confuse a majority of the Brotherhood, disappearing and appearing.

Rogue seemed as attached to Natasha, as physically possible, yelling — 'My gloves are securely on, Red! Kick some ass.'

Natasha shouted something like — 'I wish Tony were here, and that handy Iron suit of his would have been great for you!'

He briefly wondered who "Tony " was, while firing shots.

Bucky, was aware that Natasha had a friend named Hawkeye but before his fall he'd been very accurate when it came to a gun. — She knew, Natasha knew. She'd warned him too, told him there would be some aspects he wouldn't be too happy with her knowing. But his souls had been willing to tell her everything she'd whispered to it.

Magneto sent plummeting in Bucky's direction the carcass of a truck. Somehow it split in two, as Natasha used the two pieces as her stepping block. The heat from Scott Laser vision to aid his daughter.

'I'd be careful Magneto; my parents are pretty protective!'

'You still defend him!' He bellowed, glaring at Bucky. 'Even with all he did, what he has done to the children of our brothers and sisters.'

Natasha gasped, pausing for a second too long, as something passed through her calf.

She fell to one knee — 'Erik!' Bellowed Xavier.

Natasha scrambled for air, eyes tightly closed as something like whooshing shrapnel moved through the air.

'Jean!' Yelled Scott. 'Jean, don't she'll be okay!'

Bucky turned to Natasha's parents. Jean appeared to be emanating with something unearthly.

'Control it, Jean! Tasha will be fine. A flesh wound!' said Rogue, running to the mutant who seemed to be surrounded by a strange firelight.

The use of moving metal, he soon realised was an airline craft descending towards them.

Bucky ran towards Magneto yelling: 'Stop this! Stop it, here have at me! Kill me, bury me alive. But don't — '

He was tackled, by an ice-cold figure— Bobby voice sounded in his ear: 'Tash will kill me, if you do that sacrificing shit.'

In the mist of distraction, Natasha, with her damaged leg, placed the tips of her fingers on Magneto's neck, slow snake of her hands around him, her eyes a river-filled stream of power.

They both fell to their knees in synch, as a hollowed, emotionless voice echoed: 'Thank you for your cooperation, Magneto.'

A single tear trickled down his face, Natasha had told him when someone looked into her eyes — they gave her permission to scrummage their soul.

What had she found in there? What —

'Natasha!' He cried as she seemed to disappear out of existence with her "prisoner."

'I hate it when Red does that. No dust or smoke in sight, just silence.' Commented Logan, glaring in her direction. 'What the hell would possess her to go off with that metallic –'

Natasha said time moved a decelerated rate in the Soul World, but it seemed as like one moment she was gone and the she returned. She looked off into the distance as Magneto staggered back with wild eyes, fixed on Natasha, who calmly walked back to Bucky's side, easily sliding hand into his metal one.

She watched like an inspector, as an unspoken command was washed upon the other members of the Brotherhood of Mutants, by their leader.

He watched her like something akin an immaculate vision of religious needs.

'Magneto,' hollered Natasha. The mutant paused and looked back to her. 'I intend to keep my promise.'

Something telling passed between the two mutants before magneto replied. 'If that was you moving without little use of your powers, then I fear to witness you while they are on full use.'

Natasha simply nodded, slowly turning her back to him.

The unearthed turf of the lawn seemed to re-lay itself with the work of Jean. Every so flick of her wrist, dictated this, however her interest was fixed on Natasha who seemed to sink into her open arms.

Snuggling like a small child against her chest, Natasha said: 'How do you feel about mixing me a bloody Mary, though seven shots of vodka, would always do the trick.'

And though, Logan snorted appreciatively, while Jean plonked her offspring on the head.

'Such churlish behaviour, what will I ever do with you Natalia?'

'Continue being my mother, forever and ever?'

Jean placed a fleeting kiss on her brow: 'I can manage that.'

* * *

After a quick bath, Natasha curled in a ball in one of Professor X's plush sofa chairs. Dull eyes sort him out, before offering a smile, he was growing to recognize was reserved for him only.

The creature curled limbs to her chest, yawning with a slow-moving hand to cover the action, had protected him. She with fiery eyes— hair to match had offered him only something a skinny punk so long ago had. He saw very easily how Steve had loved her.

Rogue, alongside Logan, Ororo leaned against the window seal presenting the pink tinge rays of a setting sun. Jean and Scott leaned against the bookcase behind Xavier tucked behind his desk.

'It seems like we had a trying day, but thanks to Natasha's quick wit, we have subdued Erik for the time being— I wish you'd let me in and see what you showed him. But it must be important, if your impressive blockers have been thrown up.'

She grunted in answer, and he smile fondly back at her.

'But did it have to be like this— all I wanted to do was play Rogue on that stupid stick and box of her's and Bobby's in the living room today, maybe get some fucking Chaucer in. Not fight today and be chucked by juggernaut.' Logan growled, levelling a look at Bucky.

'Stop that.' Snapped Natasha in a tired tone.

'Why Red? White snow bitch came storming here because they saw him— saw the Winter Solider, ready to tear down this place and you, Martyr in every year, month, and timeline stuck your neck out for him!'

Natasha straightened up in her seat: 'of course, I did!'

'Just because you knew a Bucky in your timeline doesn't mean you should—'

'It doesn't matter.' She snapped. 'whatever year, month, timeline like you said Howlett, if it had been you— you I'd jumped off a cliff for to save the universe, half the population, I'd do again!'

She wasn't gloating – Natasha didn't know how to do that.

A silent battle began between the two, until Rogue's tiny voice filtered into the room.

'You must mean something important, sugar, if Natasha was willing to go against Magneto: but Logan's got a point, why defend the Winter Solider?' Both he and Natasha snapped to attention.

'I'm not attacking you, I'm just wondering what possessed you to run head-ass into Magneto's open arms. The Winter Solider in some of the film reels I saw, shot first and then walked away— you and he, really are different, huh?'

Bucky felt something clawing in his throat as he retracted into his seat. 'Maybe that's why Tasha went after you, you a bit like us. Not in control, and in need of a giving hand— Tash?'

Unfocused eyes glanced at Rogue— 'Buck.' She said, and in that moment her voice was the most soothing thing to touch his ears. A frisson of joy always rolled down him whenever she said that - Steve had been synonymous with that nickname.

'You should tell them about December 1991 …'

'Nat.' It was a slip of the tongue really, he wasn't too sure how familiar or safe it was to call her such a thing. But in return she offered him an understanding smile.

'Is this what you do? Use the excuse of this new universe or timeline, to justify your means of help. Nat, I…'

The poor girl was dog-tired and blinking owlishly back at him, as Bucky felt runs being performed down his back.

'You're not too different from how I remember you — the Bucky from my original timeline. More talkative and skittish. Then again you have less red in your ledger – or so you've showed me.'

She stretched. 'Do you know I'm taller now, like instead of five foot three, now I'm a decent five foot seven.'

'To answer your question, I remember everything. That's what it cost me— restarting the timeline: everything, you've done, I've done, small insignificant mistakes and giant ones too. '

Logan, Ororo and Rogue stood leaning against the window seal, as absorbed as he did— so they must not know.

'Natalia, is still good at keeping her secrets Bucky,' answered Jean. 'Well with as few exceptions.' She indicated herself and Xavier.

So, they know she knows then, that Natasha isn't really her daughter and yet chooses to —

'You're wondering if Scott and I really are Natasha's parents. If we sired her or simply adopted her on one of our travels to communist Russia.' She smirked, bringing to cup of tea to her lips. Bucky sat mesmerized. It wasn't as such he needed confirmation, when near all Jean's features had been copied back onto Natasha, bar her nose and thick brows and chin maybe.

'When I was twenty-two, I almost destroyed the world, I was infected for want of a better word, by a cosmic entity named: the phoenix. I thought my penance; my cosmic karma was barrenness. I almost died homing that ability. I was already a powerful mutant, but the power was lustful. I'd never been more enamored with an experience. Until I found out I was with child. A child with Scott had been a want of mine – both secret and acknowledged.'

'We couldn't go to an ordinary doctor of course, there was a nearly 99% chance this child would be a mutant, like us. Hank was fantastic, Jean was phenomenal and Professor X highlighted something key to us,' said Scott joining the conversation and linking hands with his wife. They both leaned again the bookcase too.

He couldn't argue it felt like an interview with the parents.

'Souls and timelines are funny, tricky things, of course.'

'Of course.' Echoed Bucky, not completely sure as to where they were heading to.

'When the soul stone restarted Natasha's original timeline, she latched onto the next powerful cosmic entity besides her siblings, that would stabilize her connection with Natasha —'

'Jean,' Bucky breathed as the mutant nodded, pride glistening in her eyes.

'Our mutant genes were enough to amalgamate the tenuous connection a human would be burdened with; as to not burn Natasha out as it did to the hero of her timeline. Natalia Jean Romanoff-Grey - Summers was born after nine hours of hard labor, premature by a month, and perfect.'

Jean walked around the desk, picking up an apple, she inspected it for a moment before taking a generous bit.

Bucky opened and then closed his mouth, wanting ask the question teetering on his tongue.

'If that beautiful question on your lips Mr. Buchanan Barnes is: does that mean Natasha has inherited my connection to the phoenix. Then my answer would be: ready as Bucky sagged into his chair.

'It sounds like you know the last of my secrets, perhaps it's time you faced your biggest one?' whispered Natasha.

In a room filled with her parents, Rogue, Logan, Ororo and Xavier, small hands cupped his in her own: Natasha, his attention is drawn back to her. Crouched in front of him: it was hard to believe the girl staring at him with beautiful green eyes— with tiny flecks of blue in them— sort him out. Asking him to forget for now, that she was a mutant, a cosmic vessel. Remember, how he was looking at a girl who'd be eighteen at one point.

'You can't run away from this… today being the 11th of December, or how in a few days it would be best if you come with me to Long Island, pay respects to the both of them and their son. To see what Tony has become.'

He wanted to spit her and ask – "how important is this to you?" Hiss it, in an undertone— she knew, of course she knew. Maybe even without her powers, she knew, the timeline was still pretty much the same.

'Why are you doing this? Why?' he said his voice mirroring his shaking form.

Natasha pushed herself to her feet and drew him into a hug (sitting in his lap, wrapping her arms around him). Bucky followed her lead with dead arms.

'For the same reason I saved you, the same reason you gave me easier access to breaking you from HYDRA's control: you care about every kill— human or mutant. There is no difference in that amazing mind of yours, Bucky.' She looked out of the window. 'So many of you allow me into your souls, without much forethought regarding that consequence. I don't have to tell you the right thing to do Bucky. You were ready to stupidly sacrifice yourself to Magneto.'

She offered him a sad smile: 'You were in New York and stupidly ready to sacrifice yourself then, you were looking for him, weren't you — would still do so, even in seven years when Tony makes the Iron Suit. But it doesn't cost much to reach for a gun. What I am saying, whether this decision was conscious or unconscious, I'm with you…'

'Till the end of the line, or the point in which Tony Stark murders me himself.'

Natasha shrugged: 'I'm pretty good with drama queens. I once posed as his secretary to understand his life. Maybe this time, he might just need a friend.'

* * *

Author's Notes:

It was imperative to get an POV from Bucky, as he is more or less in this timeline Natasha's /

We don't get a lot of his thoughts( I'll probably add that in).

16/12/1991 is the documented deaths of Howard and Maria Stark and I'm sticking to it.

In 2001 - Natasha is around Seventeen/Eighteen and Jean has been aged up too.

The next chapter might be the last chapter concerning pre- MCU timeline storylines, a time skip should be expected.

I hope most things will be clear to you now.

I realise there is no Steve in these chapters and it's wonderful to know you're invested in this story, so thank you everyone engaged in this narrative.

I hope to explain the dimensions of Natasha's Soul Stone's powers more and introduce the Fantastic Four soon maybe.

Steve is coming soon, y'all will see.

Thanks,

Greekgeekable


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**December 16th 2001**

**Long Island, New York**

**Natasha**

It was 1943 and she waited for a boy on top of one of the stoop steps. Her spirals of dark red hair collected on top of her head in a high ponytail as she waited as she should do, patiently for him. It was something like a quirky demand, to wait on him and expect him to find her— like he was some kind of mutant endowed with superpowers.

But the 'subversion' of superpowers was kept up—the expectation as Natasha smoothed down the long skirt she'd purchased for the occasion on a crispy October's afternoon, it was a much different environment from her current situation. At that moment, in her present, she'd rested her head on Bucky's shoulder, seated next to a flirty Rogue and Kitty who fought to garner his attention. Her parents set a head in the front seats— and despite the block of a visor, she'd been very sure Dad had been chuckling.

They'd all been (were) dressed in the somber attire of black mourning wear, as Howlett, Kurt, Ororo and Professor X followed behind them in another car, weaving towards Long Island.

But as Natasha blinked now, bringing a hand to cover her eyes from the dull October sun, the additional touch of her baby blue skirt was clear evidence she was not where she was supposed to be. And that was okay.

"Why are you frowning like that? Am I late, are you mad at me? You're a lot further than the last time I found you."

Moving the cover of her hand as an acting shield against the sunlight, the slender frame of a young man did that for her instead. "My hero." She murmured with a fond smile, witnessing the burst of red explode across his cheeks. Her shield was not a very tall man, perhaps two or three inches shorter than her with a sweep of blond hair, when matured enough could be mistaken for a dirty blond/ brown. He'd look amazing with a full beard— comely to the sight. But then again, she was thinking of the man he would become. The man in front of her, offered a helpful hand, lifting her to her feet. The unfair advantage of the last stoop step gave her more height to look down on him. In her original timeline, all she'd have the advantage of was looking up at him.

His eyes, were like the creation and combustion of two iridescent stars in the night sky, and she had the urge to kiss him, absorb him and claim him as her own. Brand a kind of love he had/ would give to her when he returned the soul stone and resurrected her and their shared timeline. But her beautiful smile dropped from the comely downturned corners of her lips; she jumped the last step to look — though not too far down — into Steve Rogers eyes.

He wasn't dressed in his dapper brown military suit; either meaning he hadn't started making the rounds concerning his enrolment in the army, or the war time efforts didn't seem like a threat yet to America— damnable Pearl Harbor.

She easily bumped his shoulder— wanting and needing to lace her hand into his warm one. The sensation of his large weight she'd have to hold out on till the injection of the super solider serum, but even now wouldn't be appropriate. He wasn't hers to have … yet. She looked over his worn shirt and trouser, and zeroed in on the drawing pad tucked under his arm and the pencil placed behind his ear. She was about the sing his praises when she zeroed in on the trickle of blood tucked in the corner of his mouth.

She slapped his shoulder, ignoring his wince as she must have caught his bruised shoulder. "What fight did you get into now Rogers. Jesus, what do I need to do, put a bell on you every time you go for a walk?"

A smirk played on his lips as he rubbed his shoulder. "Geez, you're as bad as Bucky. Though don't tell him, I think you hit harder. Look… I had to — "

"Protect some dames from some creep who wouldn't take no for an answer." She finished for him, running a hand threw his hair, a soft thumb following the curve of his bristled jawline.

Another flutter of heat spotted his skin, it was easier this time to pull back, and start walking. He caught up and said: "I was hopping you'd come! I have some good news."

She cut a look to his handsome profile, it amazed her even now how he couldn't understand before the serum, the title, and the shield, he was a hell of a catch.

"Tell me what Rogers, you look like you're about to burst."

He offered her a funny look, he often did when she spoke. She never hid the fact she wasn't exactly from 'around here.' And perhaps the refreshing inception of her visits were necessary for their mutual relationship. The evidence was tantamount: "I went to Stark's Expo with Bucky… it was his last night… I was saying goodbye and something amazing happen. No, more like I met someone amazing." For a brief moment a frisson of worry erupted in her stomach, as the red lipped flash of Peggy Carter popped to mind, but of course he wouldn't meet her yet. "His name is Erskine, he's a scientist, he must have seen something in me because I'm being—"

Even knowing what he was going to say next, even if it was inappropriate, even if it wasn't the time to touch him, she pulled him into a hug. The old Natasha raised by the Red Room wouldn't have been so much as dictated by emotions. But she wasn't her anymore.

She felt the rolls of surprise pass through him, before he returned her hug, wrapping his arms around her. It didn't matter that they were standing in the middle of the pavement, encouraging others to walk around their embraced frames, she was the daughter of the legendary and feared Phoenix— Jean Grey and Amazing Cyclops— Scott Summers.

"I thought you'd be happy! Thank you by the way, for all your encouragements. I guess it worked out like you've been saying." His voice muffled over her shoulder.

She offered him a wonderful smile with a careless shrug: "I've been telling you that for years Rogers. You're amazing. To celebrate we can go to the diner and you can tell more about the Expo, what Stark was like. What he's working on. Did they get you a set list on what you're going to do the first week of training? Why you purposely missed out on talking about that the cute girl Bucky set you up with."

Steve lead the way, as they waited at a batch of traffic lights. "You never met him and yet you speak with such confidence about him."

"Who are we talking about Rogers? Are you jealous?"

His ears peaked red again as they crossed the road.

"You really enjoy the teasing thing." He japed, looking very familiar to the man who'd told her he knew what a kiss was, the same man who when she offered him companionship, he'd returned her offer with only friendship.

Stupid feelings—she concurred. "Bucky, Stark maybe. You're not the best at hiding things. I know. I know… you're not from around here, you move a bit like the ficticous made up fairy tales of Santa, you appear when needed and wanted." He discussed in a hushed tone. "First when I was ten, when Mom passed, when Bucky was really sick that one time I thought I'd lose him and now."

"We both know my unspoken truth Rogers, 'I'm not from around here,'." She said slipping her hand in his and planted a rushed kiss on his cheek.

* * *

They slid into a booth taking opposite sides to face each other, wearing uncontrollable smiles on their faces.

"So, tell me about Stark, where you close enough to get a good look at him." Knowing as she did, that Steve and the senior Stark would build upon a relationship of mutual respect, that would eventually be transferred to this son; and more so, the fact she was heading to his memorial site, this trip to the past felt poignant.

"Ugh he seemed kind of outlandish, a bit bigger than life. Well that's what he put off… but you know Miss Grey- Summers, considering what happened with Erksine. Stark didn't seem like too much of a big deal." He admitted a bit shyly.

The waitress sauntered up to them, placing two burgers in front of them. Natasha turned to note an order hadn't been made, until she spotted a young boy sat with his parents, with a shock of brown hair, he was grinning and with a smiling face he faced her. And she was shocked to see the child-like joy on Charles's face. She sent a concealed wink his way.

"What did he ask you?" Knowing full well of the test and various ones he'd put Steve through.

"Did I want to kill Nazis."

"And let me guess, oh Mr. Patriot… you said something like, not really, it's the …" she said, cheek propped on a proffered hand.

"Yeah, my answer was bullies, how I didn't like them."

"It's why you're sporting that shiner now. Which reminds me," Natasha waved for a waitress. A pretty blonde approached looking as most people often did at the dichotomy she made with Steve, "Would you be a uh… diamond and get us some ice and a clean cloth. His eye isn't doing to well and I'm worried he won't be able to see through it soon." She crooned.

She'd worked up a New Yorkers accent that still managed to juxtapose with Steve's charming Brooklyn one, she'd learned to love.

The waitress eyed her a moment longer with an interested look before turning away.

"Are you used to that by now, catching people's attention." He said, with a lot of interest in his burger. Natasha smirked.

"My ma has a saying, if they're only interested in your features forget them. What I have to say and think will live on far longer than the bat of my eyelashes. I suppose the same should go for you. It's no one's business to know why we hang out. I just happen to like you a lot Mr. Rogers."

He wasn't bathed in red this time, his keen brilliant blue eyes locked with hers as a shy smile played on his lips.

"But you're not in love with me, are you… I don't think that because of how I look you know. It's a bit like that Mrs. Darling hidden kiss you wear, it's in your eyes, kind of like a sparkle that ignites when you look away and clearly thinking of someone else. He must be some lucky guy Miss Grey-Summers."

Getting him comfortable with just referring to her by her maiden name had been a bit a task. What forename could she offer and not give him a lie. She just couldn't really lie to him… not anymore. Not when he had saved her soul, resurrected her soul, stolen her heart and hopes when he'd returned back to 1945 to unite with a past love.

This Steve she looked at with warm eyes, was the original of this timeline, (of her timeline she'd amended). And once again the feeling and need erupted inside her: the need and want to kiss him.

Following all technicalities, he would always be her first and last love, how could she be so drawn to a man she could not have. For so long she had functioned as the temptress and now, even with all the training from her past life in the Red Room; she leaned over her plate of food, cupped his cheek, briefly registered his surprised expression before placing a brief kiss on his lips.

"I wish you the best of luck for your future endeavors Mr. Rogers. It seems like I'll be going now." She breathed, feeling the familiar tug in her chest, a signal from the stone that it was time to return to her place of origin.

* * *

"Why the hell are you staring at me like that?" breathed Natasha raising her head from Bucky's shoulder, slowly rubbing sleep out of her eyes, and ultimately smudging her eyeliner, if Rogue's faint howl of woe was interpreted correctly.

'Because you've only now decided to fade back into existence. Your parents were figuring out excuses for why you weren't with them at the memorial site. What the hell where they meant to say to a bunch of civilians— "Oh Nat, yeah, she uh, disappeared out of existence to god knows where, and will pop back to existence when her powers see fit." It'd be a great distraction from the fact the Tony's parents murderer has the balls to stand and mourn them like some nobody.'

Natasha's head lolled on his shoulder again as she huffed out a breath.

'Where did you go, by the way… if I can ask… the soul realm?'

'When Steve dropped the stone back in its place of origin returning her to where we would lay and fuse. His intention was to retrieve me. And he did in a way, but with that same intent; he has linked us across timelines, universes and time-streams. I don't have a real control over it, but I get to interact with him before he's gone into the ice. It's kind of a nice treat ... considering the long wait I'd have to endure.'

'So, when we finally wake him up… he'll know you! Why are you frowning like that?'

'Well Sugar, I imagine it's because she doesn't want to effect the timelines. I'm guessing the girl he's meet doesn't look too similar to the Natalia we know and love.' Purred Rogue from next to him.

She nodded silently, looking down at her hands.

'She's the Black Widow after all, maybe not in position anymore but in memory that's for sure.'

'And always the liar it seems.' Natasha said looking out to the moving landscape.

'I call bullshit on that,' came Scott's voice filtered to the back of the car.

Natasha's head snapped to attention. 'It was a moniker you wore like a badge of shame, the same badge your mom wears if she hears the name Phoenix. It's a moniker of woe a justification to beat yourself up about the bad and dangerous things you've done in your lives. It's a wonder the soul stone choose you both. It's a wonder two cosmic entities somehow think I'm qualified in helping the both of you. A simple mutant, huh. But I'll continue doing my best.'

Dad's eyes were still locked on the road, but Natasha could tell every so often he offered both her mom and herself looks of adoration. 'You are not your motto my Natalia, not anymore. You're my daughter and besides possibly being the most powerful mutant in the world. An amazing astounding person, who's trying like a lot of people: to save the world. Remember that, and all the bad things you have to do because guess what you're fallible will seem less poignant to the woman you're becoming.'

Her old man, what else could she offer him but one of her beautiful smiles.

'Thank you, papa.' She whispered.

It was a shame he couldn't wink, swapping his ruby quarts visor for a somber pair of ruby quarts lined sunglasses, but she knew him well enough to feel the effect.

'Anytime minha Natalia. Oh, and we're here by the way. Look sharp, I hope you all know what you're doing, especially you Bucky.'

They'd rolled in front of a plot of land as manicured and maintained as the Xavier gardens Ororo worked on with the help of mom and herself. Azaleas, tulips and white roses spotted the Stark burial plot. Despite the crisp winters air those flowers had fought for survival under the sheet of snow they'd ultimately be buried by.

Natasha opened the door to the weak winters sun trickling into the car to tell Bucky over her shoulder — 'Sometimes I wish Steve was here to tell me if what I'm about to do is sound of mind.'

'What stops that thought though?' He breathed.

'My growing belief in myself, now come along Mr. Barnes, Miss Pryde and Miss Devereux are looking for a handsome hand to lead them to the crowd of mourners. They have to somehow look stunning against this sad day.'

He really was handsome, if a ten-year-old Natasha in the Red Room could note such a thing (it being her first exposure to the beauty of an American man). An eighteen-year-old one, could do the same thing. He'd trusted her enough with a razor in hand, with the help of mom conjuring memories of Steve and his sister to mind to serve as distractions, to rid him of his hideous overgrown beard.

Clean shaven you could easily be drawn to his wicked blue-grey eyes and strong jawline. It was a pity, through that in the next hour, Tony may end up wailing on those chiseled features.

She sighed, turned a way, shoving her hands into the lining of her winters jacket.

* * *

'There was no other man like Howard Anthony Stark, when I was a young boy, it was very easy to pluck him from a row of my admirables. Charismatic, jovial and brilliant were a few of the ways to describe him, at least the version he offered to me. Because of course we have a tendency of crafting ourselves around the needs and wants of others. We don't always do a great job of it.' And for a fracture of time Charles Xavier's gaze landed on Tony.

'But it's the effort and love that we wear and should always wear as a badge of honour in our efforts and pursuits that forever hold. We will always try and honour this man and his wife by his scientific measure. But for once let's remember this boy and girl for who they were: two kids celebrating their time and memories together and the child they brought into the world. This is somewhat more than Maria and Howard Stark— their legacy, a living embodiment of their generosity sits before us. Let's us clap too for Mr. Anthony Stark, the child of science and joy.'

Professor X raised his flute of wine, as did everyone else in the room. But her eyes drew to one figure —throwing back the wine and picking up an accompanying glass of Mai Tai.

Natasha had known Anthony Edwin Stark for all her life and a bit — the bit accounting for her past life. She had admired him, hated him and briefly pitted him, but never had she thought about vilifying him. Even with what happened between he and Steve.

But this man pushing through into his early thirties looked worse for wear than the egotistical millionaire who'd eventually sobered enough to don the title of: Iron Man.

'The next seven years cannot come quicker, the face of death will do him some good,' muttered mom. While Professor X shot her a cool look, Natasha couldn't help but agree with mom.

'Too bad I didn't merge with the time stone, then I could speed up things.' Natasha muttered.

Her gaze followed the willowy frame of a pretty strawberry blonde spied across the room—dressed in a plush purple that brought out her lightly freckled skin. Virginia 'Pepper' Potts offered a small smile as she crossed the room, to subtly pluck the newest beverage Tony thought he could down.

The party of civilians and shield operatives began to mingle leaving the dinner table to the open hall of the Stark Manor. Natasha leaned against the wall, holding a glass of lemonade—wishing for several shots of vodka. Bucky had been commandeered by a pretty aging lady and sandwiched between Ororo. She smirked.

She saw Reed Richards talking lively between mom and dad who animatedly returned his enthusiasm. She like the man, who was willing to show her fractures of his soul. He was a smart guy then, you didn't meet a lot of men willing to shield themselves from her pretty green eyes.

She thought back to the procession and how she rested sunflowers— Steve's mother's favourite flowers on each of the Starks' grave. She'd held back and told them a bit about what Steve may become. She looked around now wishing Jarvis would come and offer her a hot chocolate with a dash of Bailey's and offer her a conspiratorial wink. But he had passed not too long after the Starks. All that was really left of that generation was Tony's godmother and Bucky. Time had not been very kind on either of them— oh and Steve, still frozen and silent to the world.

'I could really do with some Asgardian mead or better yet fresh air right now.' She spoke to herself.

Tony swayed to her side with a wide smile plastered on his face, it could be argued he was rather handsome, all for the stench of alcohol drenching him. Natasha did little to conceal her disgust as he flung an arm over her shoulder and drew her close to his side. Dropping a sloppy kiss to her forehead he slurred: 'Good to see you here little Natalie. Though wait a minute, little, might not be the right word for it anymore.'

He was drunk, sad and acting like a jerk and with all these factors ringing true, Natasha restrained herself enough to knock his arm from her shoulder.

She half hummed and scoffed when he next said: 'I was just pointing out the obvious Natalie.' Then he nodded his head towards Bucky standing, his back to Tony. 'I see you finally brought a date with you— funny way to introduce your new boyfriend. It's not exactly a joyous occasion, what happened to Christmas or thanksgiving?'

'He's not my boyfriend.' She said in a high falsetto that did little to affect his alcohol induced mind.

'Good.'

'But very not interested. I can't hold up to all those girls always ready to throw themselves at you. You wouldn't need me or the pretty strawberry blonde leagues and bounds better than you for the moment. Not when you haven't even tried to fix yourself up yet. Let's face it I'm just a distraction from the truth.'

'And what's that Natalie.' He said in a honeyed tone.

They always did this, the funeral memorial always stared him off, and the dinner always finished him off. He came to her because she never stood for his bullshit, he needed someone to fight with: and his mind wasn't on the bad guys yet. He was aimless and perhaps what she was about to do would be good for his growing alcoholism and ire.

'You know you're a mess and there's very little you want to do to fix it. I can't believe Aunt Peggy would leave you like this- but you've been great at lashing out everyone even before your parents passing. You've always had some chip on your shoulder acting like Pepper, Aunt Peggy, Uncle Reed, Professor Xavier haven't given you love and affection. This day is and has always been an excuse. Don't forget, I've seen you're eyes handsome, I know what that soul of yours has to say.'

Fury performed runs down his frame as he shook with anger. He would not hit her. It was an unspoken promise, he'd spoken to himself, and he'd showed her when she looked into his soul.

Bucky however was not blessed with such foresight. He appeared at her side, growling: 'You're drunk, pissed off and a mess Tony! It's not a good look. And you're walking around with this woe is me persona on your shoulders like someone fucked up your life. And taking it out on Natasha is no way to go about it. If you're going to attack someone let it be me!'

Panicked eyes latched onto Bucky as Tony's attention drew to his new victim; 'What?' he snarled.

'Through the haze believe me you'll remember this and I know you will. Being that drunk is piss poor but don't take it out on one of your long-suffering friends.'

'Bucky.' She wined in a soft voice that travelled through the quiet room.

'You look familiar, and did Nat just call you— wait they have a mural of you in the Smithsonian and Aunty Peggy—'

'Peggy…. She's here? Damn.' He spoke in a low voice, before gulping down his fear and embracing his stupid riotousness. 'It didn't have much control when it happened, and yet I can't say I don't remember what happened. It was a night like tonight, dusted with a similar amount of snow. And the frost did little to affect me, but the two of them wouldn't feel it, with the pain of the –'

Tony rammed into Bucky, who put up little an excuse to fight as they crashed into one of the buffet of food.

'You son of a bitch 'he cried and screamed at the same time, over and over again. Interlaid with: 'How dare you come here! And think some apology could possibly—"

Bucky did not raise a hand in defense as Tony made it his mission to pummel the shit out of her friend. Now she had an idea what transpired when Tony had found out the truth in their original timeline. The fracture of emotions that had eventually built up between Steve and Tony, only to be broken had been one of the catalysts to their demise and minor failure when the Mad Titan finally showed his face.

Natasha snatched up one of the round food holders from a server. Dashing the food on the floor, and held it like a make shift shield. Making this change did not mean that Tony and Bucky could/ should or would become best friends. But building a repair for the loose threads of time and the soul she had an advantage of peering into, was the least she could offer.

At first, she tried to pull Tony off, ignoring Reed Richards shout of: 'Don't he's not in the right frame of mind.' Very true, and she could have asked either her mom or professor X to subdue him with their telepathy. But Tony, knowing him as she did. Physical interactions were sometimes the soundest form of expression to ring true.

He pushed her hard as she tried, smacking her against the wall, encouraging a chorus of shocked voices. Natasha ignored the scandal she was making – by bringing Bucky here and the pain shooting through her side at not purposely defending herself— could now appreciate Steve's use of a shield. She could have been in a lot worse pain.

'Natasha,' moaned Pepper, trying to incept her from breaking the fray. She seemed torn between allowing Tony to seek out his revenge and ending the madness.

Natasha fainted to the left and came from the right calling back to the strawberry blonde: 'the security you've called for are going to take too long.'

She tapped Tony on the shoulder, he turned to her with wild eyes, intoxicated by rage and alcohol: 'Did you know.'

She served Tony with a thrust of her shied ramming it into his face while causing his unbalance.

'I didn't count on Bucky's guilt clouding his flight or fight responses. Well, shit, maybe I don't know him as well as I thought.'

'We're meant to be friends. We've known each other since we were kids, why would you do this?'

'For the future,' she breathed.

Before punching him in the face, knocking him clean out. Seeming to calculate his descent she dashed to his aid, her knees buckled under his dead weight and she wore a mask of relief when Happy and Reed Richards came to her aid. Pepper, wonderful Pepper wore a look of pity and regret staring between Tony and Bucky.

Natasha brushed the smear of blood up her face as she glared at her two idiots, hearing the hiss of: 'Natalia,' from Mom.

She knew events from the future, and it was a shame she couldn't shape them completely to her control. Civilians and Shield intelligent officers were scattered around the room, she felt the latter begin to move in closer— she threw a covert look around the room, sensing each level of threat they offered and how ready she was to risk exposure for Bucky.

The sound of heels signaled the entrance of someone that brought the hairs on the back of Natasha's neck up, but following the well-trained routine of the once renowned Black Widow, a stoic expression borne on her face to match her tone: 'Hey, Aunty Peggy, nice to see you again.

But of course, she couldn't hold Peggy's attention when a ghost from her past looked up from the floor up at her.

* * *

A/N:

I thought this would be the end of the past chapters and then we could move onto the actual MCU timeline, but it looks like another chapter is needed to round off most things. I have introduced Reed Richards a lot earlier than planned. But it seemed natural to be honest.

I had to bring in Godmother Peggy, it seems a crime she was not introduced in the actual MCU, it just makes sense. In the next chapter you see a lot of the groundwork concerning Natasha's involvement in Shield and the avengers established.

I know Natasha may seem little OC, but she is a Natasha raised with the love and care of a family from the beginning. I think it will be interesting to see how she handles the dichotmy of her relationships between Tony an Bucky, juxtaposed to Steve.

Talking about Steve- I had to talk about him, more than in just in a memory, they needed a way to see each other without that torturous seventy year weight /

And Peggy and he will be addressed toobr /

I think for sure, more use of the X-Men will be employed as well as Hydra too.

Thanks for reading,

Like, Fave and review please.

Greekgeekable


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